


The Unlikely King

by Bluewolf458



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young mother gives birth early in her locked apartment; and when she goes to put her son into the bed prepared for him, she finds another new-born child in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unlikely King

The Unlikely King

by Bluewolf

_It was still dark when Dora Jenkins awoke, to realize within seconds that she was in labor._

_God! This was over two weeks early, and she knew nobody here!_

_She had moved in only the previous day, coming here ahead of her husband who was working his final week in Denver before his transfer to here. Norman was pleased when he was given promotion, though he would have been happier if it hadn't meant moving from Denver, especially with Dora so close to giving birth._

_They could have delayed her move, of course, leaving her with the doctor she had known all her life until after she had given birth, but despite the advanced stage of her pregnancy, Dora had decided she didn't want to stay in Denver without Norman._

_It had seemed a good idea for her to come ahead and get their new apartment ready while Norman spent his evenings working overtime to make sure everything was in order for the man taking over his job; the firm had made all the arrangements for the move, so it wasn't as if it was an onerous task. And if she moved at this point, it would, they thought, give her a few days to find a new doctor while she was still two weeks from giving birth..._

_Another contraction hit, and she switched on the light._

_She should go to the local hospital... but the phone wasn't connected yet so she couldn't phone for a cab - and although Norman had a cell phone, she no longer did; the one she had possessed had finally given up the ghost a few weeks previously. She had taken one look at Norman's as he demonstrated all the things it could do, and remembered again why she had kept the old one for so long - a basic phone, capable of making calls and sending text messages (she never had) and nothing else. Simple, easy to use... Norman hadn't understood her lack of enthusiasm for a new, all singing, all dancing phone, even though he knew she never went near his computer. Her lack of technological savvy was profound, and she had no wish to improve it._

_She would have to knock on a neighbor's door or go down to the road and hope to find a cab. Get dressed first... She struggled to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for her clothes -_

_\- and knew she wouldn't have the time to do either. Another contraction, she automatically pushed..._

_... and the child slid into the world, falling the short distance to the floor with a soft thump._

_She really should get it - and herself - checked. Even as she thought it, however, she had one last contraction and the afterbirth slipped out._

_She sat for a moment, just breathing._

_She knew what to do; the oldest child of five, her youngest brother had been born at home when she was ten, her sister when she was almost thirteen, and both births had been, like this one, very fast. Her aunt had been there both times, and both times she had helped Aunt Wilma tie off the umbilical cord, wash the baby, put on its first diaper... She would have to do this for herself, then in the morning she could make her way to the hospital._

_But when she returned to the bedroom with her newly washed and diapered son, glad that she had already prepared a bed for her child, and went to it..._

_There was already a baby lying there._

_The apartment door was locked, she knew, the windows closed - and in any case this was a second story apartment, there was no way that anyone could get in... but somehow, in the few minutes it had taken her to wash and diaper her baby, someone had managed to leave another baby in the bed._

*******

**Twenty-three years later**

Although it had been almost two months since their parents were killed in a car accident, Frank and Keith Jenkins were still having difficulty adjusting to arriving home to an empty apartment.

Frank sometimes wondered if it would be easier to sell the apartment and buy one in another part of the city where they didn't have the memories; the only thing keeping him from voicing the suggestion was his brother's fascination, almost obsession, with the gargoyle just outside their bedroom window. But while he had no objection to any of the other gargoyles that decorated the building, Frank himself hated and feared that one, and had even debated taking over the bedroom that had been their parents' to get away from it - but he knew that one night would have been enough to see him crawling back, unable to sleep properly without the comforting sound of Keith's soft breathing, not quite loud enough to be called 'snoring', in his ears.

On this evening, when Frank opened the front door they were greeted by the smell of food cooking. Startled, they looked at each other, then moved quietly into the hallway. Keith closed the door behind them and they moved on soundless feet to the kitchen.

Any confrontation they had thought of was squashed when the woman working there greeted them with a smile, apparently unsurprised by their sudden, silent appearance. "Hello, boys."

"Mom?"

Her smile faded slightly. "Well... yes and no. My name is Doran. And while in some ways it makes this visit easier, I really am sorry about the death of the woman you both called 'Mom'." Her voice was sincere. She went on more briskly, "Dinner's nearly ready - come and eat, and then I'll explain."

The brothers washed quickly while this woman who so resembled their mother served up the meal, and they ate appreciatively. Dora Jenkins had been an excellent cook; but this meal surpassed even her best efforts.

Afterwards, with the dishes washed, Doran led them into the sitting room. The brothers sat on the couch that was their preferred seat while the mysterious stranger chose the armchair their father had favored.

"All right," Frank said. "Who are you, how come you look so like Mom, and how did you get in?"

"Do you know anything about the theory of parallel universes?" she asked. When they shook their heads, she went on. "There are a number of different universes, split off from each other by some pivotal event - one universe goes one way, a different one goes the other way. In one universe you get the American civil war; in another, you don't, the southern states continue to be slave-owning and the United States as you know it never comes into being. In one universe you get the Salem witch trials; in another you don't, and witchcraft - magic, if you will - becomes part of everyday life."

"Sounds a bit far-fetched," Frank muttered. Keith - who had always been the quieter brother - continued to say nothing.

"Most universes are completely split off from each other," Doran went on. "This one and mine are a relatively recent split, and so there are still doorways linking them. Some of us - a very few - have the ability to know where specific doorways lead and what is happening on the other side.

"Most of these doorways are in remote areas where people seldom go. However, the rocks from one of the doorways in both your world and mine were quarried, and incorporated into this building and its counterpart, the one in my universe where I live. The key to the doorway is the gargoyle outside your bedroom window."

"I never liked that gargoyle," Frank said, "although Keith does."

"I'm not surprised. Twenty-three years ago I used that doorway to bring my new-born son through to this universe, and left him here, where your mother had just given birth to you, alone, in the middle of the night." She was looking directly at Frank as she spoke.

"You mean... "

"Yes. Keith is not actually your brother, though in a sense you and he are the same person; in my universe, I'm the same person that your mother was." Her pronunciation of the name 'Keith' split it, ever so slightly, into two syllables. "I was certain that she would accept the new-born who appeared out of nowhere - it was what I would have done.

"Leaving my son here was not easy for me, but it was the only way to keep him - " she looked at Keith - "you, safe."

"Safe?" Frank asked.

"In my universe, America is a kingdom. The split between your universe and mine was when in one universe America gained independence from Britain; my America remained a British colony. We accepted the second James as king when he was deposed by the English. So in my world, we broke away from Britain then - a decade or so after your universe did. My world has remained less industrialized," she added.

"But I digress.

"As I said, my America is a kingdom. My husband's uncle was the king, but he was unable to father children, and so he named as his heir my husband, the son of his oldest sister. However, Norlan died in an apparent accident over twenty-three years ago, just a few months after he was declared heir. It was widely suspected that he was murdered by - or at least on the orders of - a cousin, the grandson of King Rolan's uncle, though nothing was ever proved against Carel. But Carel had never made secret his opinion that the son of a male relative should have precedence over the son of a female one.

"The king knew I was pregnant, but if Carel had known, he would undoubtedly have ordered me killed as well to remove any possible rival for the throne. There was nothing I could do except retire into obscurity, ostensibly in mourning, to hide my pregnancy, and then bring my child here, hoping that my alternate in this place would accept him."

"Then why are you here now?" Frank came straight to the point, somehow knowing that he would not like the answer. "You abandoned your child. Why do you want him now?"

"My country needs him."

"Why?" Keith spoke for the first time. "You tell us you brought me here from another universe. Say I believe you - and I think I must because how else could you have entered this apartment? Frank said it - although my life has been happy, you abandoned me here. As a result, this is my universe. I know nothing of yours, and - forgive me - I don't care."

"You are no longer safe, even here," Doran said. "My uncle knew that I gave birth to a son, and that I had brought him - you - into this world so that you would grow up safely, because Carel knew nothing about you. Rolan knew that over the years, I watched to be sure that you were healthy and happy.

"As long as Carel believed that he was the heir, you were safe - but a year ago, when Uncle Rolan knew that he was dying, he announced to the country that Norlan had left a son, who was the legitimate heir. So Carel knows about you now, has been searching for you these many months, and will certainly have you killed if he finds you - and I have reason to believe that he is getting close to finding you."

"Why?" Keith repeated.

"Don't you understand? Both by birth and by Rolan's dying decree, you are the legitimate king. If Carel was popular you could abdicate in his favor; but he has never been liked, he is a tyrant, and the land is in turmoil. The army does obey him, from loyalty to the crown, and he has a few supporters, men without a conscience that he has bought - but the general population hate him. Even knowing nothing about you, they feel that you couldn't possibly be a worse king than Carel."

"Don't you have an elected government?" Keith asked.

Doran shook her head. "Some countries do, but our king is what you would call a dictator," she said. "Rolan, like almost all of his predecessors, was a benevolent dictator; Carel is not. He is basically a weak man and thinks that ruthlessness is strength."

Frank and Keith looked at each other. "You realize that if I did become king, the first thing I would do would change everything so that there was an elected government," Keith said.

"I think it would actually be a popular move," Doran replied. "Under a benevolent dictator, people were happy; but even a few months of living under a tyrant has been enough to create fear of the power that a dictator holds."

Suddenly she stiffened, raising her head. "Quickly," she said. "Is there somewhere we can hide?"

"Hide?"

"Someone has found - is using - the gateway."

"The bathroom," Frank said.

They moved quickly out of the sitting room and into the bathroom, closing the door quietly once they were in. Above the toilet there was a sort of door that didn't reach quite to the ceiling, that hinged downwards; Frank released the catch, revealing a not very large storage space. He pushed Doran up into it; Keith followed quickly, then Frank, too, climbed up. As he leaned down and pulled the door up, reaching over the top to refasten it, the sound of several people in the house became noticeable.

They crouched together, uncomfortable in the limited space. The bathroom door crashed open; a voice called, "Clear!" Other voices echoed it. Footsteps sounded, heading back into - Frank guessed - the sitting room.

"They'll wait for you to come home, since they think you're out somewhere," Doran breathed.

"How long are they likely to wait?" Frank whispered.

"Their orders are probably to wait till Keith appears, though they mightn't know there are two of you. Then kill Keith - or both of you - and go back, leaving an unsolvable murder."

"Is there likely to be a guard at the... the doorway? At either end?"

Doran concentrated for a minute. "No, there isn't. They won't know that I'm here - I made it look as if I'd gone away, gone into hiding, in case Carel had me arrested. As far as they know, my house is deserted, and this raiding party didn't leave a guard there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm one of the few people who are aware of the gateways. I know it's clear."

"If we were very careful... would we be able to slip through without the men here realizing?"

In the dimness of the storage space, Frank could barely see her nod. "It's worth trying."

Frank released the catch and lowered the door very carefully. He climbed down, steadied Keith as he descended, and then they both helped Doran down. Frank refastened the door - no point in giving the raiders a clue that they had been hiding here. They made their way silently to the bedroom and slipped in, closing the door again behind them.

The window was wide open.

Doran glanced at her son and his 'brother'. "Hold hands," she murmured. She caught Keith's other hand, then leaned out and grasped the gargoyle firmly around the neck. Everything went dark for a split second, and then, a moment later, they were in another room.

Doran didn't give them time even to look around properly. "Come!" She still spoke softly. "The raiding party might include someone like me, who will know there's activity at this end of the link; we need to get away from here quickly."

Keith and Frank followed as she led them through the familiar, yet totally strange, building, and away from it.

***

Outside the building, everything was different. Instead of being in a city, it stood in a wooded countryside; there were no vehicles, and the only 'road' they could see was a fairly narrow, rutted track. Doran avoided it and, walking briskly, led them along a barely perceptible footpath that headed off at an angle away from the track.

Although Frank and Keith had lived in a city all their lives, their work as freelance naturalists submitting illustrated articles to magazines took them into countryside similar to this for sometimes fairly lengthy periods, and they enjoyed the walk, both subconsciously noting both similarities and differences between this woodland and the ones they were used to.

"Doran," Frank said after they had walked for perhaps a mile, penetrating deeper and deeper into untamed woodland, "where are we going?"

"To meet some... you would call them 'freedom fighters'."

"Is this the same part of America that... well, that we live in?" Keith asked.

"Yes."

"But we live in a city. This - " He gestured around. "This is about as far from being a city as it's possible to be."

"The population of this America - this world - is far less than the population of Frank's." Her pronunciation of 'Frank' lengthened the 'a' slightly, virtually doubling it.

"That America is also mine," Keith said quietly.

Doran stopped and looked at him, and for the first time Keith saw a touch of uncertainty in her eyes.

"I understand why you took me there, left me there... but that is my world," Keith said. "I understand that it was safer - for the moment - for us to come here; if those men really did want to kill me, it was the one way we could slip away unseen. But I really don't want to stay here. I'll help you - but then I want to go home. The life I have there... It's the life I want."

"But there, you're nobody important. Here, you'll be the king."

"So?" he asked.

"You'll be important. Rich. Both of you, because... Am I wrong in thinking that Frank will want to stay where you are?"

"No, you're not wrong," Frank said. "We've always known that even if we married, we'd still choose to share a house."

"We do owe you for that," Keith said. "If you hadn't done... what you did, we'd both have lived as only children. We'd probably have been perfectly happy, not knowing anything different. But your action made us twins."

"There's just one thing that we might have to consider, not that it'll make any difference - which of us actually is the older one?" Frank put in. "Mom decided that I was the older, by a few minutes, but if you were recovered enough from giving birth to take Keith through that 'doorway', I'd guess he's actually older than I am by a few hours."

"Yes," Doran agreed.

"I'm perfectly happy being considered the younger brother," Keith told them as Doran started walking again.

She shook her head and walked in silence for some yards. "In the other universe it was only right that Frank, the true child of Dora and Norman Jenkins, be regarded as the older brother. Here, you must be considered the older brother - as indeed you are. You can't slide out of your destiny by claiming that Frank is older. In any case, Rolan named you, Keith, as his heir. He didn't just say 'Doran's son who was sired by Norlan' - he said 'Doran's son Keith.' No matter that yours is a name that is totally unknown here. He named you."

"Didn't you give me a name?"

"In my mind I called you Norlan, after your father. But how could I even leave a note saying 'this child is called Norlan'? It's a name totally unknown in that other universe."

"Our father was Norman - it's pretty close. If you were watching our mother you must have known that; you could have said I was Norman."

Her face twisted for a moment as Keith referred to Norman and Dora Jenkins as 'father' and 'mother', and she fell silent as she walked on; and, with nothing more that they could say, the brothers - who had so newly learned that they were only foster brothers - followed.

***

The faint, narrow track they were on grew narrower and fainter until it disappeared altogether, but Doran walked on, as confidently as if there were indeed still a track that she could follow.

The woodland had been silent; but after a while they became aware of birdsong, some of it surprisingly close - and then the birds fell silent again. Moments later, two men appeared, coming towards them through the trees.

Doran stopped and waited for them. There was no tension in her stance, however, and Frank and Keith, while remaining watchful, both decided that these men were not a threat.

When they reached Doran, both men went down on one knee for a moment, heads bowing respectfully; then they stood. Doran inclined her head. "Harlan. Rydel," she acknowledged. She looked back at Keith, and he read the order in her eyes - 'come forward'. He took the two steps needed to place him beside her. She looked at the two men again. "This is my son Keith," she said quietly. "The other is his foster brother Frank."

Again both men knelt, lowering their heads. "Your Majesty," one of them - Keith thought it was Harlan - said. "Welcome back to your land."

"You are sorely needed," the other said.

Keith shook his head as the two men stood to face him. "I know nothing of kingship," he said, "and I do not think I want the power it seems that your kings have."

"A king can use his power for the benefit of his country or the benefit of himself. It is those who want the power who misuse it," Rydel said. "King Rolan knew that Carel - " he spat the name as it if were a curse - "wanted the position. It was one of the reasons he originally named Norlan his heir. You do not want it... " He hesitated. "It does not mean - forgive my bluntness - it does not mean you might not be corrupted by the power, once you got it - some men are; but it is unlikely.

"Carel is already corrupt - believing himself to be the heir, he has ever believed himself to be above everyone but King Rolan, though he had the sense to hide his worst excesses from the King. Rolan was not entirely fooled, though Carel thought he was."

Keith glanced at Frank. As their eyes met, a message flashed between them - 'What the hell mess have we landed in?'

***

Although it was clear that Doran knew the way, Harlan led the little group through the trees, Rydel bringing up the rear.

It was soon clear that Harlan was responsible for at least some of the 'birdsong'. Keith glanced at Doran and she nodded. "Prearranged signals," she murmured.

It took a while, but eventually Harlan led them into a big clearing. There were possibly two hundred men there as well as some women, gathered in little groups around fires; from the smell, food was being cooked, and it made Frank, at least, realize how hungry he was. He wondered at that - they had eaten perhaps three hours earlier, although a lot had happened in that three hours. He suspected that Keith was too nervous to be hungry - this situation had to be really stressing him, though he wasn't showing anything openly.

Harlan whistled once more, and it drew everyone's attention. Moments later, there was a rush of bodies towards them.

Doran stepped forward, and the rush stopped just two or three yards from her. With everyone crowded together, it looked as if there were far more than the two hundred there had seemed to be when they were spread out.

She turned her head to look at Keith, and nodded slightly. He licked his lips and stepped forward to stand at her side.

"This is Norlan's son Keith." Here, she pronounced it 'Ke-ith', making two distinct syllables of it. "I gave him into the keeping of a woman in one of the alternate universes, but now he has come home."

The entire crowd went down on one knee, then rose again to a rumble of voices. The words they spoke were barely decipherable, but seemed to be a combination of 'Welcome home, Sire' and 'Your Majesty'.

She turned and looked at Frank, who sighed and stepped forward to stand at her other side. "And this is Ke-ith's foster brother Fra-ank, who will stand at his side as confidante and adviser."

With an effort, Frank controlled his facial expression. This was the first time 'adviser' had been mentioned, and he was no happier about it than Keith had been to be called 'king'. Not that he would have considered returning to his own universe without Keith - as he had said, if Keith had to stay here, he too would stay; but he didn't appreciate the way in which Doran was stating it as an already established fact.

Three hours ago - no, make it nearer four - he had Keith had gone home, already tired after a day spent setting camera traps in a strip of woodland a few miles from the city - there had been reports of farm animals in the fields near it being attacked by something, possibly a coyote. As naturalists they had been interested enough to want to check the woodland, see what was living there... although Frank suspected they might never get the chance now to find out. In those hours their lives had completely changed.

He glanced sideways at Keith, seeing instantly that his brother - he knew he would always think of Keith as his 'brother' - was completely at a loss to deal with the situation, and looked dead on his feet. "Doran," he said softly.

"Yes?"

"What time is it here? At home it would be quite late and we'd be thinking of going to bed."

"There is a slight time difference," she agreed. "The hours of daylight are the same, but the clocks are set so that dawn, here, is some two hours later than dawn in your world. Here it is still mid-evening."

"Okay, I get that. But we've had a full day, and we're both tired."

Doran raised her voice. "Ke-ith and Fra-ank have learned much in the last few hours; they have a lot to discuss. Harlan... " She looked at the man who had led them to the clearing, and he nodded.

"If you will come this way," he said, polite without being obsequious, "there is a shelter you can use."

***

The 'shelter' was a small hut cleverly constructed out of branches. There was a sort of sleeping platform also made from branches, comfortable for one, just large enough for two. A wicker chest sat beside one wall; from it Harlan took three blankets. He threw one blanket over the framework and put the other two on the bed.

"If you need anything, sire, just call," he said, and left them.

Keith sank onto the bed. "God, Frank, what sort of nightmare is this?" he asked.

"Not one we're going to wake up from any time soon," Frank muttered. "But at least she kidnapped both of us. We're in this together."

"When I think... We debated staying in the wood overnight, not just trusting everything to the cameras," Keith said. "We should have done that. Then this would never have happened. Or it might, but Doran would have arrived and left without us being any the wiser."

"Fate," Frank said. "And... Even if we'd never known anything about it, would you really have wanted those men who came after her to find her? She might have waited for us rather than leaving. They would have followed her, and she wouldn't have known how to hide from them."

"No... but we wouldn't have known about it... "

"And in any case, they seemed to be committed to waiting for us to get home. We'd have walked in and been killed, and never known why."

Keith sighed. "You're right... but... king? I don't want to be a king. I don't even want to be a king long enough to set up a republic and then vanish. All I want... All I want is to go home, sleep in my own bed, then check out our cameras tomorrow, see if there really is a coyote in the wood or if the farm animals are being attacked by a feral dog - or even an out-of-control pet." He yawned. "God, I'm tired!"

"So wrap one of those blankets around you, lie down and go to sleep," Frank said. As Keith obeyed, Frank picked up the other blanket, kicked off his shoes, and without bothering to undress further - he suspected that they would need to keep their clothes on for warmth - joined Keith on the bed.

But although Keith fell asleep almost instantly, Frank lay awake for a little while, thinking. For twenty-three years he had been the older brother, and for at least eighteen of them he had considered it his place to look after his younger brother. Not that Keith had been dependent; he had a mind of his own and had always been prepared to make his own decisions. But Frank believed that he had always been the more level-headed, the more responsible one of them, the one who kept them out of trouble.

He was still wondering how to get them out of this particular situation when he fell asleep.

***

Frank was wakened early the next morning by voices outside the 'hut'. They weren't particularly loud - Keith, always the heavier sleeper, slept on undisturbed. Frank rose cautiously, slipped his feet into his shoes and went out.

It appeared that Harlan and Rydel had spent the night outside the hut, guarding it - or perhaps it might be truer to say providing an honor guard? Both looked tired, though Frank suspected that they had split the watch and each slept for part of the night. They were speaking to Doran - respectfully but firmly stopping her from approaching too close to the 'hut'.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked softly - the look on Doran's face was enough to tell him that something was far from right.

"Carel," Doran said. "It could be because my home here has been identified as a gateway into your universe - otherwise how could those men have gone through? He knows that there is a widespread resistance movement, one that would like to see him deposed... if one can depose a usurper. He may suspect that my home is the headquarters of that movement. Whatever the reason, our scouts have let us know... Carel is coming too close to _here_ with a small army. The numbers are possibly much the same as we have here - but they are trained fighters, which our men are not."

"Rydel and I will shadow that army," Harlan said. "We can soon give warning if Carel comes in this direction. Everyone should be ready to move away, scattering, if we give that warning."

"I'll come with you," Frank said. "Yes, I know what I'm doing; I won't handicap you. I have to admit to a certain curiosity about this Carel."

"You don't want to meet him," Rydel said. "I grew up in his Household, and I saw, over and over, what he is capable of. Rank is no protection. Even his wife... She was betrothed when he first saw her. He had the man killed, had her taken direct to his bedchamber, and raped her that same night. In the morning he went through a form of marriage to tie her to him, but every time he took her to his bed it was rape, even though in self-defence she pretended willingness. Despite what he did to get her, he is not a faithful husband - for which she is grateful, though she pities the women who suffer in her place. Many of them - though not all - are servant wenches. If someone possesses anything that he wants... Men have learned that if he says any form of 'I like', it is wise to give him it, whatever it is, as a gift.

"As long as he didn't notice you, life in his Household was... comfortable enough, but still far from happy. I escaped from the place when Rolan announced that Norlan had a son, and joined the resistance. Life here is, in general, harder - but much, much happier. I would not go back even if I could."

***

The voices finally woke Keith, who still looked half asleep when he joined them. Frank explained what they were planning, and Keith suddenly became more alert. "I should come too," he said.

"No!" It was a chorus of four voices, but Frank was the one who explained further. "I know you're not happy about it, but you're the king. All Carel would have to do, to remove you as an obstacle to his position, is kill you. You know you can trust me to react as you would and give you a full and accurate report."

"But you look exactly like me. He could kill you, thinking you were me."

"And you - the king - would still be alive to avenge me. You are the man the resistance fighters here look to for leadership, but you know as well as I do that you have a lot to learn. While the three of us check on Carel, you have to begin learning - well, statecraft, from your mother."

Keith sighed. "I don't like separating. We've always been stronger when we were together."

"I know - but only you can be the king. As your adviser - " and the glance he gave Doran was, if not actually hostile, far from friendly - "it's my place, at the moment, to investigate the threat to you."

"We'll make sure Fra-ank is kept as safe as possible," Rydel said, and Harlan nodded.

"Okay," Keith said. "But be careful - all three of you!"

***

The three men had a quick breakfast, then set off. The scouts had told Harlan where they had seen Carel's men, and they made good time; in just under three hours they found themselves in a position where they could see the intruders. They lay flat, heads raised as they watched.

It seemed to be part army, part royal procession. The last thing Frank would have expected to be included with a platoon sent to 'do something' about a potential enemy was three coaches, one very opulent, one a good deal less so, and the third relatively plain, but all of them pulled by four horses - the four attached to the most ornate coach obviously struggling to drag the too-heavy vehicle over the rutted track that Frank guessed went to Doran's house. The other two coaches seemed to be lighter; the horses pulling them were less distressed.

Rydel hissed. "Carel has come himself," he murmured. "More, he has brought at least one woman... probably his wife Sharvid, possibly a mistress - possibly both, and is forcing Sharvid to share her coach with... I would say her rival, save that Sharvid is more than happy when her husband's attention is directed towards another woman. But if that is the case, it cannot be easy for either of them, for they will both be hoping that this night, Carel will direct his lust towards the other one."

Behind them, Frank heard a stick snap, and looked around. Six men were approaching, all armed with spears; and it was clear that if they tried to run, the spears would be thrown.

"Carel obviously has been well advised by someone more cautious," Rydel said, too softly for the approaching men to hear. "I wouldn't have expected him to have scouts parallelling his army."

"On your feet!"

They could do nothing but obey.

"Move!"

They were herded towards the front of the column. It took only a few moments before they, and the men who had captured them, were seen, and the man in uniform who was riding at the head of the column raised a hand, then brought it downwards sharply. The column halted, and waited.

The captives were prodded forward until they stood a few feet from the first coach.

The man who climbed down from it was, in Frank's view, totally over-dressed for these conditions; he was dressed as if for a court ball, and he instantly understood, as he had not quite done - god, was it only the previous day? - Doran's comment that Carel was basically a weak man. A strong one would have let his demeanor show his rank.

He studied the three men, and almost immediately his lips curled. "You!" he said, glaring at Rydel.

Rydel said quietly, but in a voice that carried, "I had hoped never to see you again - sire." The pause made the title drip with insolence.

Carel gave a wordless snarl and backhanded Rydel so viciously that he was forced to take a step backwards. Beside him, Harlan caught his arm, keeping him from falling.

The man from the front of the column, and the one who had been riding immediately behind him, both wearing insignia that Frank guessed marked them as senior officers, joined them, leaving their horses in the care of two of the men. Their faces were set in expressionless masks. Carel turned to them. "Torkin, Arlex - take this traitor and have him fastened up for a flogging." Despite their obvious self control, a slight look of utter shock passed over the faces of both officers at the order. "Prepare the heaviest cat. I will administer the flogging myself." He turned back to Rydel. "I will take great pleasure in hearing your screams while you are still conscious. Perhaps I will stop then, and wait until you regain consciousness before I continue - but you will die under the lash."

Rydel straightened, pulling away from Harlan's steadying arm. "That is no less than I would expect... sire." The insolence in his voice was even more marked.

"Take him!" Carel's voice was close to a scream.

"No!"

Their attention fixed on Carel, none of them had noticed the woman who had exited the second coach. "You can't! Husband, you can't!"

"I am the King. I can do whatever I want - and another word from you, woman, and you will be fastened beside this traitor and suffer the same fate!"

She crouched, head bent, as if submitting to his will, and with a satisfied smirk, Carel turned his attention back to his officers. "Why is this traitor still here?" he demanded.

The two looked at each other, both clearly reluctant to obey, and the woman - Sharvid, Frank remembered Rydel had called her - lunged forward. She had picked up a fist-sized stone, and she swung her arm around, bringing the stone hard against Carel's temple. He staggered and fell; she followed him down, hitting him again and again with the stone.

The two officers looked at each other once again, and then the one from the front of the column drew what appeared to be a ceremonial dagger from his belt. The two men stepped forward together; the second one caught Sharvid and pulled her away, and the first took a deep breath and then drew the dagger firmly across Carel's throat, deftly avoiding the spurt of blood that followed the knife.

Sharvid broke away from the man holding her and stumbled over to Rydel, to throw her arms around him. He responded, hugging her as he said softly, "Thank you, mother."

Mother?

Frank and Harlan looked at each other. Rydel was Sharvid's son? Which would make him Carel's son?

The men who had captured them were moving surreptitiously backwards, clearly accepting that the balance of power had changed, and wanting to keep themselves out of the limelight. The officer with the dagger noticed the movement and shook his head. "You were obeying orders," he told them. "I do not think Prince Roland will blame you for that."

Rydel handed his mother over to the officer who had pulled her away from her husband. "Thank you, Torkin, Arlex," he said. He glanced over at his erstwhile captors. "General Torkin is correct," he said. "I do not blame you for obeying Carel's orders." He turned his attention to Harlan and Frank. "So now you know who I am."

It was clear that he expected Harlan, who had been partnered with him for months, to feel betrayed; but Harlan just grinned. "What can I feel but respect for you, for rejecting what he - " Harlan indicated the body sprawled on the ground - "was doing? But... Roland?"

"I changed my name, so that I would not be considered a possible spy for... him." Rydel nodded towards the dead man. "And I think I would like men to continue thinking of me as Rydel." Then he smiled, and looked at the two officers. "What will the army do?" he asked; for the men in the platoon had made no move to break ranks.

"The men will follow orders, as they have ever done," Torkin said. "Most, I know, will be pleased to hear of King Carel's death. They have not been happy about some of the things they were ordered to do. They all know that Prince Roland rejected his position and left the Court. They know why. They will be glad to follow you."

Rydel shook his head. "Carel was a usurper. Before he died, King Rolan named Ke-ith, the son of his nephew Norlan, as his heir. Ke-ith is with his mother Doran and the resistance, a few miles from here - and I will not usurp his position."

Torkil opened his mouth, closed it, hesitated, then said, "He is an unknown. What if he is like Carel?"

Rydel looked at Frank. "Would you answer that?"

"That's right - drop me in it!" Frank muttered, too quietly for anyone except Rydel - and just possibly Harlan - to hear. He raised his voice. "Keith grew up as an ordinary man, with no rights or privileges he did not earn, in a land that has no King. He is the first to admit he knows nothing of what that position entails, and would prefer to see an elected government ruling the land, rather than one all-powerful man.

"From what his mother told us, your kings have always been dictators, but benevolent ones until Carel. But even benevolent dictators are still dictators. Where I come from, it has been said that absolute power corrupts, that even men who start off with good intentions can be corrupted by their position. Keith does not want to risk that possibility."

"Who are you, that you can state so positively what he might think?" Arlex asked, his attention briefly drawn from Sharvid.

"In a sense I am him, but for the sake of simplicity you could say that I am his foster brother."

***

It was decided that Torkin and Sharvid would accompany Rydel, Harlan and Frank back to the resistance base; Arlex remained with the platoon. Rydel and Sharvid exchanged a few words, then Rydel said, "You'd better bury him - " pointing to the dead Carel - "but take only a small burial detail composed of men you trust completely. Let his grave remain unknown and unmarked. He deserves nothing better."

"I will see to it," Arlex promised, and the group of five set off, Sharvid riding Torkin's horse.

They were met before too long by a group of the resistance, men who clearly feared that their people were being forced to lead the enemy to them.

"It's all right," Harlan told them. "Carel is dead."

"Truly? It's not a trick?" Edart, the leader of the group, sounded less than reassured.

"We saw Carel die," Harlan assured him.

"And them?" Edart indicated Torkin and Sharvid with a dismissive nod. "I know who they are - commander in chief of Carel's army and Carel's wife. Why are they here?"

"General Torkin and Queen Sharvid are here to escort King Ke-ith and an honor detail back to the capital so that he can take his rightful place as America's ruler."

"You trust them?" Edart sounded more than doubtful.

"Yes."

"The man King Rolan named as his heir was not here, and nobody knew where he was; when Carel stepped forward, Rolan's distant cousin, and claimed the throne, it seemed sensible to support him, to keep order in the land," Torkin said. "Although I admit I have done things on Carel's orders that I am not proud of."

"Huh. We know Carel had a son. How do we know that he will not try to seize power?"

"Because he has been a member of the resistance for some time now," Harlan said.

"And he will be the first to kneel before King Ke-ith to offer fealty," Rydel added.

The resistance group fell in around the returning party and they set off again.

"How did Carel die?" Edart asked.

"Loyalty has its limits," Torkin said. "There comes a time when loyalty clashes with what a man knows is right. Carel went too far, demanded too much of me; and I killed him. Now I offer my loyalty, and that of the army, to the man King Rolan named as his successor."

***

When they reached the clearing where the resistance fighters were gathered, it was to find Keith and Doran sitting a little apart from everyone else, and Keith was looking... Frank decided it was a mixture of worry, apprehension, reluctance, possible embarrassment... It might not be obvious to anyone else, but to his brother it was clear that Keith was far from happy.

His attention drawn by the movement of the party's arrival, Keith looked up, sprang to his feet and ran forward. He caught Frank'a arms. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. The only one hurt was Carel. He's dead."

"Doran told us he was a tyrant and Rydel confirmed it - but from what people here have been saying, that description falls far short."

"I'd agree," Frank said. "A tyrant, a sadist - an absolute sociopath. But the way he behaved, the way he spoke - I do wonder if he was sane. He certainly didn't sound it."

"Just as long as you weren't hurt."

"No. Rydel was the one in most danger."

Keith turned to look at Rydel, who immediately stepped forward and went down on one knee in front of Keith. "There is no longer any threat that your position could be usurped, Your Majesty," he said. "Let me be the first to offer you my service."

Sharvid, who had slid from the horse's back while Frank and Keith spoke together, now took the few steps needed to join Rydel, and also knelt. "I join my son in offering you my loyalty," she said.

Keith looked helplessly at them, clearly at something of a loss - and then Edart exclaimed, "Your son? But you... That means... "

Rydel stood and turned to him. "You're right. I was Carel's son - but I rejected that position a year ago. I have proved myself loyal to the resistance, I think?"

"A spy would act to appear loyal," Edart growled.

"I know nothing of the situation or relationships here," Frank said. "Would you, therefore, agree that my assessment of something is not going to be influenced by prejudice - either for or against it?"

"A cunning spy - " Edart began.

"Suspicion can be a good thing, but it can be misplaced," Frank said. "It was clear to me - Carel believed that Rydel had betrayed him, and it was equally clear that Rydel had neither respect nor affection for Carel."

"Carel was going to kill Rydel with his own hands," Harlan said.

"He went too far," Torkin said. "I could not let him kill Ro... Rydel. And so I killed him. Rydel has chosen to give his support to Ke-ith. Where he leads, I follow."

He turned to Keith, and knelt. "I pledge you my support and the support of the army," he said clearly.

Keith licked his lips. "Doran?" he asked.

Doran joined him. "Yes?"

"You told me that if Carel had been liked, I could abdicate in his favor," he said quietly.

"Yes."

"Could I abdicate in Rydel's favor?"

"Yes."

"Then I choose to do that." Keith raised his voice. "I'm honored by your trust in me - but I grew up in a world where America has no king," he said clearly. "I believe that I am not the best king for you, because I know nothing of what would be expected of me. What I have seen of Rydel, however, makes me believe that he would be a good king, especially with Harlan standing at his side and with - I hope - the support of my mother."

"He would have that," she agreed.

"Then I abdicate in favor of Rydel."

He turned and knelt to Rydel, copying the way everyone had knelt to him. "Your Majesty, you are now the king."

Edart, who had remained standing watching what transpired, hesitated a moment longer, then he too knelt. "You have been a good comrade," he said. "I accept you. You are the king."

***

A lot had happened that day and nobody felt like doing anything more. Food had been prepared, and after they ate, Rydel, after exchanging a few quiet words with Harlan, took his mother to the hut he and Harlan shared, then returned to join the others - Doran, Harlan, Torkil, Frank and Keith.

Doran said quietly, "Your Majesty - "

"No," Rydel said. "Not here, not now. Yes, in public I accept that you will have to call me that, but in private, between ourselves, I am Rydel." He looked at Torkil. "I include Arlex in that. Am I right in thinking that he and my mother are close?"

"Yes," Torkil said. "They are. They never behaved inappropriately - "

"That was wise," Rydel said wryly.

" - but it would not be surprised if Arlex asked permission to wed your mother."

"You and he were ever kind to us both. I would not object." He looked back at Doran. "But I interrupted you. You were saying - ?"

"I own a big house not too far from here. It is far too big for me, but I was safe there because it is so secluded. I would give it to you - I think you would not want to live your entire life in the pomp that Carel did, and would perhaps be glad of a retreat where you could be yourself, and not the king?"

"Where would you go?"

"I have another house near the coast," Doran said. "It's much smaller, but still more than big enough for my needs."

"The house here is also a doorway to our world," Frank said. "If you want to see us again, that is."

Rydel smiled. "I would like to visit you, see something of your world," he said. "And you... we would be glad if you came back here sometimes. We haven't known each other for long - just a day, really - but in that time... I think we have become friends?"

Keith smiled. "Yes," he said. "I think the doorway between our worlds will see quite a lot of traffic now."

***

In the morning, while Doran took Sharvid, Rydel, Frank and Keith direct to the house, Torkin and Harlan went to rejoin the platoon that waited on the track a few miles from the house, sent the soldiers back to their base under the command of Arlex's second, and then they, and Arlex, made their way along the track to the house.

While they waited for Torkin, Arlex and Harlan, Torkil went through the doorway and returned with the men who had been sent to dispose of Keith - as commander of the army, he knew they would listen to him where they would not listen to anyone else - and sent them back to their base.

Frank and Keith waited long enough for the three to arrive so that they could say goodbye properly, then they clasped hands, Frank leaned out of the window and grasped the gargoyle. A moment later, they were back in their familiar bedroom.

Keith crossed to his bed and sat on it. "It's good to be home."

"I know. It feels longer than three days, doesn't it."

"Too far to go and check the cameras today - but we can do it tomorrow." Keith stretched. "You know, I feel sort of sorry for Rydel - I don't think he wanted the position any more than I did. But he has the background to deal with it."

"Yeah. Now - I wonder if the men who came through here left any food in the house?"

"We'd better go and find out, hadn't we."

Side by side, they headed for the kitchen, both happy that life was back to normal.


End file.
